Narrative Essay : The Little Things

In the summer of 2013 I moved in my dad’s house for the summer to learn how to cook. Moving from Cherokee, AL to Florence, AL was a stressful move. My Mother and I agreed it was best I learn from someone that has being in the field for over 15 years. The game plan was to go work with my dad a Dale’s Steakhouse with my dad all summer. I made sure I grab my notebook and plenty of pencils so I can ask him questions.

It was a fine Sunday Morning. I was about to experience a fun day of baseball. It was a beautiful afternoon for a trip to the ballpark. I could hardly wait to get there to experience all of the fun things. I was with my brother and his girlfriend and my two nephews and me.I got there by car with my brother's girlfriend and me and my nephew. When we got there we went to the park there and played on the playground. Then we headed up to our seats which were all the way at the top ,one of the best seats in the house. I went down to the concession stand and my brother gave me $20 to buy three pops and a small pop for my nephews and me. The guys who comes to you and give you the ice cream and stuff. we got slushies

I never thought the day would come where I’d have to admit to myself I had an addiction. The hardest part was to except the fact I was an addict of painkillers and admitting it to my family so that I could get the help and support needed to get clean. The road leading to my addiction started with the factors of my childhood, always trying to fit in and not being supported emotionally from my parents. Having a child at the age of sixteen was the second factor, which made me grow up faster than a normal child at my age would have had to. Living the life of an addict was a struggle everyday but, getting help was the hardest part of it all. I’ll live with this disease for the rest of my life because recovery is a

It’s four o’clock in the afternoon and the sun is still shining bright in Fort Jackson, South Carolina. It is hot outside, about 99 degrees. My heart is pounding with fear of the unknown. The bus stops and the doors fold open. A soldier comes running up the bus stairs in a round brown hat screaming at the top of his lungs, “Get off the bus, now soldiers!” I jump out of my seat and immediately rush to the front of the bus, along with about twenty other new recruits. I have no idea what to expect but have heard the horror stories about basic training and how much the Drill Sergeants yell and apparently this Drill Sergeant has a set of lungs on him that could dwarf a bullhorn.

The single story It is not unusual that our thoughts for the person we does not know is critical. We often generalize different ethnicities when discussions of problems in the society is brought up. We are all human beings and should be equal and treat each other with respect. Poverty, starvation, illness and people who cannot speak for themselves is the stereotypic picture of Africa for us people who live in the west world. The author, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie made a speech about the concept “the single story”.

It was a normal Friday in March except for the fact that I got my license. So my friends and I thought about what we were going to do now that I have my license. Well, we cruised around town thinking we were hot stuff and that we were better that most kids in school since I had my license before many of my friends. We decided that we'd go off-roading since I had the huge truck. It was a hunter green 1979 Ford F-250 Custom. It had huge 33-inch tires, a loud crackling exhaust, and a unique 2-inch thick oak plank flatbed. It really was a beast. So we roared around the backroads hitting bumps and flying into fields just causing a little mischief not doing too much harm. After a week of horsing around

“Is this Erin?” my voice squealed with joy, “I love her!” My heart was leaping excitedly, and I almost couldn’t handle the situation! It was the greatest moment of my life! We finally took her home after a few days at the hospital and when we did, I knew that I would have a best friend for life. Someone who would always stand by my side and someone who I would be standing next to in turn. Family lasts forever and at that point in life, I had begun a lifelong mutual relationship with one special

I don't think I'm stronger than the next person who has dealt with the agonizing loss of a family member. I know I’m not. And I don't wish that it had to be this way. I wish I could've had the time to see her more but my schedule this fall didn't allow it. There are sentiments I wish I would've shared with

As the storm rolls over the house, lightning cracks in the distance lighting up the package on the front doorstep. The box had white and blue stripes on it with a red ribbon holding the lid on. As I was bringing it in out of the rain, I noticed a note on the ribbon saying “Grandma: bEWarE” It’s written with some sort of dark red ink and some sort of sticking indented into a splotch at the bottom of the card. I didn’t think much of it and left it on the kitchen table to look at it tomorrow. I awaken to the sound of the cardboard lid falling on the floor and the note from the ribbon left inside the box saying, “bEWarE.” I looked around franticly for a few seconds thinking someone was playing a prank on me, but nothing, just a silent house. I put the box and the lid in the bin and started to get ready for work but I couldn’t get the note out of my head.

On a cold chilly day in October, something was discovered. Something different, something unique, something that would change the world forever. This discovery was made by me and it was amazing. I was walking my dog Bitsy on a trail one day when I came across something sticking up in the ground. I had never seen it before in my life and I was curious. It almost looked like a tree but it wasn’t. I then whipped out my phone and searched every possible thing it might be and found nothing. “A tarrack” I said that’s what I shall call it. I picked it up and put it in my pocket and continued to walk Bitsy.

The battery on my phone was low and I chose not to write her back. A few hours later I received a call from her friend Courtney, Courtney was hysterical “What’s wrong”? I kept asking Courtney if she was okay. She responded real quietly and said “Makayla was in a car accident.” My heart broke into a million pieces I could not believe what I was hearing. I asked if Makayla was okay Courtney remained silent. I asked her again and she said: “She’s dead.” I did not believe what I was hearing. It was extremely hard difficult to comprehend that my dear friend Makayla was dead. I was trying not to cry in front of my family: however, they knew I received bad news. I told them the news I heard and they could not believe it my mom could not hold her tears back, but I knew we had to get home soon so I could be alone. My family and I were on our way home, we were traveling and started over heating it took forever to get home. My boyfriend called and I told him the news and he could not believe it either. How could a nineteen year old be dead? She was to young to die. Her family cremated her remains. Makayla was given a celebration of life. Many people came and talked kindly of

right now, then my grandma started to cry. We pulled up to my auntie Robbie’s house and it was July so her big willow tree was in full bloom and her yard looked so pretty, but it was overshadowed by the crowd of people crying. My mom just pulled me and my brother into a hug. Eventually she loosened her grip, looked us in the eyes and told us that Cody had passed away. Cody J. Martin passed away at the young age of twenty-eight due to a heart aneurysm. The newspaper clipping is still on the fridge beside a picture of him smiling in a pluto hat in Disneyland. The first few days I didn't say a word to a single person, I went utterly blank. Then all I felt was anger. After he passed I was angry, angry at myself, angry at the doctors, angry at the world. I needed someone to blame and I took it out on my family. I became even worse, lashing out at people that just wanted to help, shrinking back from their love, even though they were all going through the same feelings. Eventually, all I did was cry. I cried thinking I would never stop but eventually there were just no more tears to cry. Then came my saving grace, Kallie Michelle Crossland.

I opened my eyes and saw a nurse and a plain hospital room. Everything came back to me right that second, and I screamed and sobbed in pain after holding it all back for so long. My throat hurt and my head held to much pain to bare, but I still managed to choke up, “where is my best friend”, “please she is okay right” The nurse gave me the “hmm how do I say this look”, which only made me more provoked. I asked over and over, and finally she said something in the voice she thought could hurt me the less after everything that has happened. “Honey, I’m afraid to say Megan's injuries were too much for her to handle, and and she passed early this morning”. She also said “let Alexis know, I love her and I am still the worst best friend ever, but I hope you know you were my best friend and you will always

It had been a miserable day; bitter cold, the streets and sidewalks were capped in ice and snow, grey clouds hung low in the sky. There were barely ten students in class, but the teachers were still adamant about doing work. The school day seemed to be never ending, but eventually I was free. When I got home, I was both physically and

I just looked at her and walked away. I really did not know how to feel. I called Taylor mom phone, but got no answer. I kept calling and still no answer. I finally started crying. Losing her was like really losing one my brothers. I really looked at her like she was my big sister. For the next couple days I did not go to school. I just stayed home and cried. Taylor’s dad came over to see me and told me that everything was going to be okay. Taylor would want me to be in school having fun. So I went to school that day. Still sad, my teacher had made a card for everyone to sign for her dad.